What Friends Are For
by PartiPooper
Summary: It's only when you're at your worst that you discover what friends are really for. When Bebe is upset, Cartman tries to comfort her in his own, weird way. (Angsty and Fluffy Platonic Cartmebe Drabble with hints of Angsty Clybe; Rated T for profanities.)


It was not how Cartman had imagined spending his Saturday night, but there he was, watching as Bebe blew her nose loudly into yet another tissue and threw it onto the growing mound of other used tissues in the trashcan. He feared that they would soon have a tissue avalanche on their hands, and he hoped that they wouldn't because they had enough problems already.

"And, like," Bebe continued, sniffling sadly, "if he wasn't into me anymore, then whatever, he should've just _told_ me instead of going behind my back like that! I mean, what an _asshole_ , right?"

"I've been telling you for years," Cartman sighed wearily, resting his cheek on his knuckle and his elbow on the edge of Bebe's bed as he observed his weeping friend, "Clyde's an asshole. But you were always like _no, you just don't know him like I do_! And who was right, huh?"

"I know!" Bebe groaned, letting her head loll back to rest against the edge of her bed. "Fuck, he was always so doting, y'know? I didn't suspect _shit_. And then I go over to his house and I find him going down on Lisa. Like, first of all, _ew_ , why _Lisa Berger_? Going from _my_ pussy to _her_ pussy is like a fucking _downgrade_ – this is basic fucking science! And second of all, what a fucking _jerk_! Knowing what he's been doing all this time now, I just hope he was at least washing his mouth before he kissed me."

"Same," Cartman grimaced, screwing up his nose. "Or else all this time we've been talking you could've been blowing third-hand pussy-breath in my face."

He and Bebe shuddered simultaneously at the thought. At least Bebe was bi, so it was less of a problem for her. Being that he was gay, though, Cartman couldn't appreciate _any_ pussy, unless it was the kind that purred. But, anyway, to the heart of the matter: Clyde _was_ a fucking jerk, breaking his friend's heart like that and causing her to call out to him for comfort. There had to be a way to get him back for it, and he rubbed his chin as he tried to think of one.

"…How about we TP his house?"

Bebe rolled her bloodshot eyes. "Oh, please. TP-ing is _so_ two-thousand and late."

"On the contrary, it's a classic," Cartman huffed. "But fine, how about we tie him down and make him watch _Bambi_? The dead mom thing should stir up some repressed memories."

"Ugh, no," Bebe sighed, hugging her knees to her chest. "That's below the belt."

"To be fair, he went below the belt too. Below Berger's belt."

Bebe snorted, smacking Cartman's arm. "Oh, my God, shut up!"

She was actually starting to laugh a little. Cartman smiled, relieved that she appeared to be all cried-out. She wasn't quite _there_ yet though – she still needed a little push in the right direction. Some more laughter, perhaps? Cartman looked around, wondering how he could do that… and then it came to him.

"Wait here," he said, getting up and going to the door.

"Where are you going?" Bebe asked, cocking her head.

"Just wait," Cartman called back as he left through the door.

Bebe pouted at his leaving, but she sat patiently as told, leaning back against the bed and sighing heavily as she tugged a frayed string on her jumper. She waited for one minute, two minutes, three minutes… She wished that Cartman would just return already. Talking to him had been helping her to get all of her frustrations off of her chest. She didn't want to be left alone, otherwise she would start thinking about Clyde again, and it would hurt. She began to fear that she _had_ been left alone though – that Cartman had grown bored of her whining and fucked off – after five minutes had gone by without his return. Just as she was giving up hope, though, the door opened, and in walked Cartman.

Well, what _used_ to be Cartman, anyway.

The unpredictable teenage boy had taken his t-shirt off, and shoved his man-boobs into her mom's leopard-print bra. He had also taken off his jeans, and his muffin-top was now bulging over the waistband of one of her mom's short denim skirts. The fly was undone as he hadn't been able to zip it all the way up, revealing her mom's black silk panties underneath. Her mom's hot-pink feather boa was hanging low around his shoulders, and he had put on some of her mom's dark red lipstick and heavy purple eye shadow. After taking a moment to pause dramatically in the doorway, he strutted into the room, balancing on the thin heels of her mom's long, black leather boots, and sauntered sexily over to Bebe, who was just about _dying_ with laughter.

"Cartman!" she screeched excitedly, kicking her legs madly with glee as she clutched her stomach. "What are you _wearing_?!"

"What, this old thing?" Cartman feigned innocence, putting on a husky feminine drawl. "Don't you think I look hot?" He winked a purple-painted eyelid at her, twirling the ends of the feather boa like helicopter propellers.

"Oh, _very_ hot," Bebe giggled. "Do a twirl!"

Cartman obliged, performing the clumsiest pirouette in all of history. Bebe wolf-whistled him, and then burst out laughing again as she applauded approvingly when he finished and came to face her again.

"Nice!"

"I know," Cartman smirked, confidently flicking an end of the boa over one shoulder. His eyes softened as he then returned to his normal voice and asked, "You feelin' better now?"

Bebe nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Cool. So what do you wanna do now?" Cartman asked. "Kick my ass at _Call of Duty_ , or watch _Mean Girls_?"

Bebe smiled up at him, wiping her nose with the woolly cuff of her red sweater sleeve. "Actually, can we go on Chat Roulette? I wanna see if we can convince horny guys that your tits are for real."

"Honey," Cartman began, dead-pan, pretending to be serious as he stood up straight and put his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. "My tits _are_ for real. They're the realest." He finished by snapping his fingers in a Z-formation, and waggling his head right and left sassily.

Bebe smirked, shaking her head at the ridiculousness. It didn't even feel strange to smile anymore. It felt normal – it felt like everything for her was going back to normal. That was thanks to Cartman. He was her friend for a reason.

"Yeah, so can we show them to horny guys?" she asked, and Cartman grinned, because of _course_ they fucking could. He was all for deceiving people.

"Let's do it."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Hey, check it out, Parti's not dead! The same cannot be said for my inspiration and motivation to write, though. It's been gone for the past, what... two or three years? Wow. That's a long time. That's sad. ... But it's a new year, and I've resolved to try and get back to writing, because I still love this show and I still want to be a part of this fandom. And I still owe some fics to my good friend, shortstackedcheesecake, as well. I always meant to upload the fics I owe her first, before I upload anything else; but I'm aiming big and high with those and I think I need to start small and build myself back up before I tackle them. So I'm going to begin by trying to get back into the rhythm of uploading fics. Which is where this one comes in. It's not one of the fics I owe her, but I still dedicate this to shortstackedcheesecake, because she's the one who got me into the idea of a friendship between Cartman and Bebe. I think they're great! I don't know if I've done it justice here, but this is the kind of relationship that I imagine for these two anyway.  
Thank you! I hope you liked reading this as much as I liked writing it!**


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